


Guilty Pleasures

by passing-fanciful (kageygirl)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/passing-fanciful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a hell of a week.  So when the opportunity to indulge in a little guilty pleasure presents itself, Emma thinks she kind of deserves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Pleasures

It's been a hell of a week.

She had to trace her latest bail jumper through a string of no-tell motels, cheap takeout, and cheaper hookers, but she finally got the guy. And despite the hefty sleep debt she's racked up, and her general disgust with the world, she made it to the gym _anyway_ to beat the hell out of the heavy bag.

So when the opportunity to indulge in a little guilty pleasure presents itself, Emma thinks she kind of deserves it.

She's on her way to the locker room, passing the yoga studio, when she looks through the windows and realizes that the class in session is being taught by the guy who lives down the hall from her. 

_Killian_ , her brain supplies helpfully -- and, even more helpfully, it's in that soft accent with which he'd introduced himself when his mail had been misdelivered to her box. _Killian Jones._

She picks at the tape wrapping her left hand and pretends to be studying the bulletin board beside the door, but she couldn't identify a single flyer if her life depended on it. Because her quiet, polite, unproblematic neighbor is...

Well, okay. She knew he was gorgeous, because she's got _eyes_. But Ridiculously Hot Quiet Polite Neighbor Killian Jones is also, apparently, really, really limber. And the tank top he's wearing means that Emma has an exceptional view of a pair of guns that should require a concealed carry permit.

(That he has a great ass, she'd already figured out, because of that time that her smoke detector freaked the fuck out and she hadn't been tall enough, even standing precariously on a chair, to get the thing disconnected. He'd kindly helped her out and she'd held the chair steady for him and, well. 

She's an investigator. She notices things.)

A sudden chorus of "thank you" derails her train of thought, and she realizes that the class is breaking up.

She stays where she is for a moment, trying to make it less obvious that she's been ogling, and starts yanking in earnest at the tape. The tape, however, is unimpressed, and it's just not letting go. _This is your punishment for being a voyeur_ , she thinks, and glances up again as she blows out a breath, trying to unstick a few rogue strands of hair from her forehead.

The room has mostly emptied out, except for Killian... and the three gym raptors advancing on him.

She's seen them around before, but never crossed paths -- her utilitarian sports bra and sheen of perspiration really clash with their color-coordinated Lululemon outfits and perfectly coiffed hair. Killian looks up from the gym bag he's packing as they approach, and the circle closes around him.

"Darling, have you given any more thought to those private lessons?" the ringleader asks, in a faux-cultured drawl that makes Emma's -- everything -- crawl. "I assure you, you would be compensated..." She tosses her shock of black-and-white hair and draws a manicured talon down the center of Killian's sweat-dampened tank top. "Handsomely."

"Yes, we could make you very happy," says the tall blonde, in a way that's really more intimidating than enticing. "And you, in turn, could make us… happy."

Killian's expression is polite, but not particularly encouraging. "Ladies, I appreciate the offer, but--"

"You know, if you say no, it's going to make us _un_ happy," says the one in the _iridescent green_ ensemble -- seriously? "And trust me, you really wouldn't want us to be unhappy," she finishes, with completely unsubtle menace that has Emma moving into the room.

Killian's eyes widen, and the touch of alarm in them solidifies Emma's plan in her mind. "Truly, I'm flattered, but I--"

" _There_ you are," Emma says, taking the opportunity to slip between two of the women when they turn at her interruption. She slides an arm around Killian, tucking herself against his side -- his skin is hot under that tank top, even through her handwraps -- and smiles up at him. "I know I said I'd see you after we got cleaned up, but I got tired of waiting."

She keeps up both smile and eye contact, willing him to go with her on this, and sees the moment when it clicks, relief brightening his already terribly bright blue eyes.

"Sorry, love," he says, arm going around her waist in return. His hand is callused, though not unpleasantly so, and as it settles on the bare skin just below her ribs, a shiver runs over her. "I was unavoidably detained."

"That's all right," she says. In her head, she's admiring his acting skills, because he's looking at her with something a lot like adoration. She raises her chin and lowers her voice suggestively. "I like it when you're a little dirty."

It's the look of affection that makes her do it -- and an urge to ram the point home, she'll admit it. She stretches up to press a quick kiss to his cheek -- or, that was the plan, but he turns his head when she shifts, and she ends up catching the corner of his mouth.

She's not sure which makes her lips tingle more, the soft skin of his own, or the brush of his scruffy beard. Either way, she inhales sharply, and gets a breath of clean male sweat and tangy deodorant that makes her head swim a little.

God, it's been a while.

"Don't I know it," he murmurs, his eyes darkening, and it takes her back to last month, when his kitchen faucet had explosively called it quits, and she'd dragged her toolbox down the hall to help. In the end, they'd ended up victorious, but drenched, and she's not even sure whether he'd had a problem with keeping his eyes from wandering, because hers sure as hell had.

But she'd looked up to find him meeting her gaze with heat, and it had sent her scurrying back up the hall to a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a Netflix binge to which she'd paid no attention at all.

But now, she's dug herself into her own pit of temptation. She blinks, pulling back a little and remembering their audience.

"Oh, sorry," she says, and gives them all her least genuine sunny smile. "Did you want to introduce me to your friends?"

The pure concentrated hate in their combined glares would probably reduce Emma to ash on the spot, if her line of work hadn't gifted her with a tolerance for assholes.

"Don't bother, darling, we were just leaving," snarls the ringleader, spinning on her heel and snatching up a purse that would probably cost Emma a year's rent. "Come along, girls."

They sweep from the room, heads swiveling as they pass through the doorway, already on the hunt for new prey.

Killian turns to her, a grin lighting up his face. "You're bloody marvelous, Miss Swan, do you know that?" he says, a little breathlessly, and then drops his head, his cheeks going pink. "Thank you. That was quite the dashing rescue."

"Not a problem," she says, letting go of his waist with a twinge of regret (those muscles she'd guessed at from the faucet incident, even more fun to touch than to stare at). She starts picking at the tape on her left hand again, to keep from doing something stupid (or, really, 'stupid but not explainable away as a favor'). She's frayed the edge of the tape beyond recovery, though, and she's starting to think she might have to go at it with her teeth. "And you can call me Emma. Since we're dating and all."

"Emma." He smiles, a little shy, and gestures at the adhesive mess she's making. "May I?"

She lets him take over, because it's not like she's getting anywhere -- and, besides, she's the who macked on him out of nowhere. "So yeah, sorry about that -- I just wasn't entirely sure whether they were going to hit on you, or kill you and eat you."

"Nor I," he says, flashing his teeth in a grin. He works some kind of magic, and the tape at last starts coming loose. She expects him to let her finish it herself, but instead, he keeps gently unwinding it.

His hands are very warm.

Emma clears her throat. "And with my luck, the neighbor who replaced you would turn out to be a perpetual teenager, or the Wicked Witch, or something."

"Wouldn't want that." He tugs the last of the tape free, then raises her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it.

His mouth is very warm, too.

"You know, just to be sure the coast is clear, maybe I should walk you home?" she says -- because, clearly, she's having an out-of-body experience, or the workout endorphins are hitting her hard, or Mars is aligned with the moon, or something. "If you're going home, that is," she adds, already starting to rethink this. 

Because sure, he seems like a decent guy -- she's seen him carrying groceries for the old lady on the fourth floor, and chatting with that kid Henry while he waits for the school bus, and, yeah, she's pretty sure he's the one who told the super about her door jamming up, because she sure as hell hadn't had a chance to, but it magically got fixed after she swore a blue streak at it. But, honestly, what does she really know about him?

Except that the longer he keeps hold of her hand, the warmer she feels.

And that Ben & Jerry aren't really holding her attention all that well these days.

"I'll gladly accept, on one condition," he says, and somehow the tension winds and unwinds in her chest at the same time. "If I may be permitted to buy you a hot chocolate on the way home?" He finally lets her hand go, scratching behind his ear, and adds, "I'm afraid I've a bit of a sweet tooth."

She blinks, and then huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, okay," she says, trying to hide her undoubtedly stupid smile, and taking a deep breath for what feels like the first time in quite a while. "I guess we all have our vices."


End file.
